Don't Thank Me, Thank Your Recruiter
by LadyThompson
Summary: They joined the army, thinking only about the glory and joy of patriotic duty. But, once they begin training as recruits, will it be so easy to rely on that patriotism to survive? {{Formatting issues fixed.}}
1. Night of Arrival

Disclaimer: I do not own "Escaflowne". Nor will I ever own "Escaflowne". There, happy?  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The boys sat on the floor of their barracks. This was one of the few moments in several weeks they had to themselves. They looked at their surroundings. Not so nice. The paint was peeling off the walls. And...hey, was that a cockroach that just crawled across the floor? Sheesh...the army can afford better than this, can't they?   
  
Gatty watched the roach. It fit in here. It had armour on, and it walked like it had a purpose. Cliet watched Gatty watching the roach. "Ugh...He's so weird...watching a cockroach...ugh!" he thought. But, who is the weirder; the one who watched the cockroach, or the one who plays imaginary commentator to the event?   
  
"So..." Cliet begain." You plan on doing anything today?" Gatty didn't give him an answer, staring intently at the roach and barely even paying attention to Cliet. There was a moment where no one said anything at all.but then Cliet snapped. "Will you stop looking at that bug!?!?!" "What for?" Gatty asked, still watching the roach. It went over to Cliet's rack, and crawled inbetween the pillowcase. "I dunno. Because insects are naked, and you know how Zaibach just hates anyone who enjoys watching nakedness." Gatty rolled his eyes.  
  
"They do not. It's only certain people from Zaibach who hate that," he said. "Besides...I think it's a very worthwhile fact to know that you'll probably have a bad night." Cliet raised an eyebrow. What was that supposed to mean? Gatty was always trying to be such a clever little prick...thinks he's so mighty just because of his prospective rating {{The job skill he signed up to learn after basic training.}}. He'd find out. It wouldn't be so good for him later on. No one can stand in the light forever without getting burned. They heard a commotion outside, moving closer, and closer. Screaming, crying, the smack of a fist hitting someone's face. Ah, yes...the new recruits have arrived. With a smirk, Cliet said, "I'm going to get a good place to watch. Wouldn't want to miss a moment..." Gatty rose and followed him. He didn't care about watching and having a bit of fun at the terrified expressions of these newbies, but he did want to be out of the crossfire.   
  
"Alright, you better fucking move. MOVE MOVE MOVE!! Let's double-time it, let's go! Get in there, line up, and I mean NOW!!" The young boys stumbled in with their bundles of belongings and rolled-up mattresses. Two days without sleep. Two days of medical interrogation. Two days of those commanders and their insults. It was getting so hard to concentrate, so hard to keep moving.   
  
They formed a heightline, and stood in front of the bunks, still holding everything. One of the rules they had learned was not to put anything down. Recruits are filthy, and their belongings would poison the decks. The commander turned to Gatty and Cliet. "I expect you two to instruct them on what they need to know until we begin training. DON'T leave anything out. Understand?" They answered 'yes, sir' in unison, and the commander left.   
  
"Alright," Gatty began. "I know you've had a hard night, so I'll try to get everything done as quickly as possible so you can get some sleep. First, you need to -" Gatty was interrupted by the sound of someone being punched in the face. "Hey, recruit! Keep your damned eyes open! Don't you dare fall asleep while someone is telling you something." Oh, Cliet just couldn't help himself. He had had enough of punishment, he was ready to deal out some of his own.  
  
Gatty glared at him. He knew this couldn't be good for the recruits. They needed a chance to settle in and unwind, before they completely lost their sanity. They were all watching the two, waiting to see what would happen. Gatty, who was already suffering from too much time spent with Cliet, wasted no time in making an example of him. He grabbed the front bars of the bunk next to Cliet, and shoved it full force at him. Both went sliding into the wall. Cliet was, for the moment, squashed and unconscious, and the recruits didn't know who to be more afraid of.   
  
Gatty turned towards them. "You see him? He's not a good teammate. Recruits will not hurt other recruits in this division. Recruits will not beat their teammates down in order to reach the top in this division. Because, if you do, I'm sure you'll find cause to regret it." He walked to the middle of the awestruck group, and pointed at one of the bundles. "Do you see that? Inside are the only possessions you will have for many years...and technically you don't even own them. You have nothing, not on your own. But, as a team, we have each other. Together, we will survive this test, and go on to do what we really came here for - to serve our country. Do you understand?"  
  
They gladly nodded yes. Those words...good strong words of encouragement. A weight was lifted, and they knew that they were going to get through this. They would live to be soldiers. "Good. Now, set your mattresses and sheets on the racks, and..." He paused for a moment. He knew this next part would be well received. "Get some sleep!" Cheering commenced as the group readied for taps. It was the best nights' sleep any of them would ever have. Gatty helped those that needed it, then walked to the front entrance of the compartment, and turned out the lights. He would be on watch. It was Cliet's turn, but...Cliet was incapacitated for the moment.   
  
The next few days passed by in unearthliness for the young recruits. They had left their home, and they didn't belong there anymore. They would be welcome if they could come for a visit, but they were not part of the life of those homes, and would never be again. And yet, they didn't have a home here; still not in the army, like a person who is stuck at the gate of a mansion, waiting for permission to enter in. These thoughts filled their minds when they weren't doing things like learning how to iron uniforms, shine boots, make their racks, or everyone's personal 'favourite': folding their underwear.   
  
A few more groups of new recruits were to come in before the division was complete. They came right on schedule, every three days. Those who had been there longest became snide and condescending. They would see these poor new saps, and feel most high and mighty when compared. They wouldn't help them. These people should just figure it out on their own. After all, that's what the army pays them for, right? Not all of them were like that, however.   
  
Gatty showed true leadership quality in the way he took care of everyone and everything. He made sure everyone knew what they were doing, and what was coming next. He wouldn't allow someone to fail if he could help it. They all respected him, even if they didn't emulate his goodwill.   
  
The seventh and last group was just like all the others. At least, they seemed that way at first. No one had much trouble, except one small blonde recruit. He seemed...distant...lost. His eyes...well, what was there to say about that look? It was inexplainable. Confusion and fear filled them.  
  
When the others were told to set up their racks, they went at it as happily as the first group. Except for that one recruit. He didn't move. Not the slightest bit. He was as still as a statue, and looking very haggard and warn. There were whisperings among the older ones. A person would've caught the phrase, "What a freak!" many times, had they been listening in. "Shut your face-holes," Gatty said. "No need for that. You need to get ready for taps." Grumbling, they all went to it.   
  
Gatty walked up to the recruit, intending to take him aside, and try and talk him back to normal. He was probably suffering from shock. He looked a little ill, that could have been it. "Hey, aren't you tired? I'll help you-" When he got close enough to see well, he couldn't say anymore. He saw that poor recruit's arms...all covered with scars and needle marks. And his face was drained of any colour whatsoever. He seemed about ready to die.  
  
"I...uh...I'll set up your stuff for you, okay? Don't worry about anything right now." He smiled, trying to make the recruit feel better, but it didn't work. He only stared back, with that hollow dead look. Gatty avoided that gaze as he worked. He finished the last corner. Normally, he would've been teaching how to fold it, but this was not the time. "There, all finished. Get some rest, okay? It'll be better tomorrow, and if you're up to it, we should talk a little."   
  
He turned to go, but realized that the recruit wasn't moving. He waited another minute. THe recruit still didn't move. And that look was starting to really freak him out. He walked back over. "I'm serious. You need some sleep. Please...lay down." And once again, he was ignored. "Hmm....Why won't he cooperate?" Gatty's wondered.  
  
"I apologize, but you have to get in your rack. If you don't and one of the commanders comes in, you'll be in a lot of trouble. ANd so will the recruit on watch." He put a hand on the recruit's shoulder, intending to guide him to the rack. But, that proved to be a bad idea. The recruit flinched and grit his teeth together. He glared at Gatty. It was a desparate and angry look. He tensed up, and backed away from Gatty.   
  
"Oh, come on. We can't play games here. It's only two minutes till taps, and I have to get to my rack on the other side of the compartment. Just cooperate with me." He tried once again to guide the recruit to the rack. THe recruit lifted his hand up to push Gatty's off. His movements were full of ticks and twitches.   
  
"I...am...tired...of help...Don't help me...anymore..." The word help had terrible pain attached to it. Gatty didn't want to know what memories were associated with it.   
  
"Well," Gatty said, now trying to make the conversation normal, "Now that I've seen you know how to move on your own, I'm not going to play around with you. You've got to get into your rack. Now." He tried to be gentle, but the recruit wouldn't cooperate. He was acting as if his life depended upon him not being forced to lie down. So, he ended up practically throwing him down into the rack. The recruit put up what was to him a tremendous fight, but was to Gatty something easily overcome. The recruit tried to get up several more times, but Gatty refused to allow him to. He finally conceded defeat, and curled up into a ball on the mattress. Gatty covered him up with a blanket.   
  
"Poor kid," he thought. This one was badly off in the nerves department. Gatty decided that some time had to be set aside the next day, so that he could talk with him. He took out his little notebook, to copy down the name of the recruit. Dirandau.   
  
After that, he had just enough time to run to his rack, before a commander came in to make sure everyone was asleep. Gatty sighed as he drifted off. He prayed that nothing happen until the morning, when he would be able to stop it.   
  
{{Ah...it feels so good to be back in the habit of writing. ^_^ ::Cracks knuckles:: It's a nice release from boredom. The title is a phrase we always used to hear, when we'd start complaining about something that seemed wrong at bootcamp. Therefore, I felt it was appropriate, because there are a great many injustices which Zaibach soldiers probably have to deal with. Especially that special recruit Dilly. Oh, and before I forget, I'm going to say that this is separate from the other fics, as usual. It has nothing to do with Weapon of War}} 


	2. Chapter 2

Silence had consumed the compartment, and all were sleeping peacefully the night away. Ah, so full of solitude...so wondrously relaxing. One of them stretched and yawned like a cat, then went completely limp, back to that fully-sleeping state. It was the nicest time of all, when they were alone, and only a little light came from the lanterns. It wasn't terribly hot then, either. And they could dream. The only way they could get out of that place was through their heads. Indeed, it was a wonderful time. Gatty crept to the middle of the compartment. It was time for a gentle wake-up call. He took a deep breath, and began the spiel.   
  
.  
  
"Reveille, reveille!! All recruits heave out, and prepare for the day. Uniform of the day is as follows: PT Gear. Get ready for a workout, boys."   
  
He smiled as he watched everyone fall off their racks, having been shocked awake by his yelling. They were all groggy and confused, and their hearts were beating a mile a minute.   
  
This was one of Zaibach's incentives to make them learn to wake themselves up. They staggered to their feet, and the fight to get their things out of the closets began. "You've got five minutes!" he added. He received incoherent complaining as a reply.  
  
.  
  
He sat down to have a moment to himself. This was going to be a tough day. Thus far, all they had been doing was taking care of their clothes, and cleaning. The only thing he had to do was make sure that nobody tried to kill eachother, and that the new recruits knew what to do and not to do. Not much to it. Now they were going to start the real work. And he was going to be responsible for seeing that everyone got through it okay.   
  
"I won't let anyone fail," he thought. "I won't leave a teammate behind. Not ever."  
  
.  
  
His moment was ruined by a fight breaking out. He ran to the front to see what was the matter. Cliet had begun his usual annoying routine. He just had to find someone to defeat. And today, it was two of the new recruits who had refused to get up. The first had conceded to doing as Cliet told him, and had begun looking for his clothes. The other, the recruit that had given Gatty so much trouble the night before, was not so easily swayed.   
  
"Oh, so you think you're special? That you don't have to do like everyone else? That sounds to me like individualism. Individualism destroys teamwork. We don't need individuals here!" He smacked the recruit, who fell so easily, and without even the whisper of a protest. He was too tired...far too tired...   
  
Cliet raised his arm to strike again, but Gatty came to help.   
  
"Cliet, stop it! He wasn't supposed to get up now. He has an appointment later, and they wanted him to be well rested. Now you've ruined that, you jacked-up idiot." Cliet bit his lip. He felt terrible now. Zaibach hated any type of mistake.   
  
"I...uh..." he stammered.  
  
"It's alright," Gatty reassured him. "I won't say anything about you. I'll just find some other way to get around it."  
  
The way that Gatty had been looking out for everyone, it came as no surprise that he should be sacrificing trouble to himself, so Cliet didn't question it. He returned to harrassing the others. They finished readying themselves, and left for the recruit training hall. Gatty stayed behind. He didn't have to go. He would be getting a 'special' workout all his own later. [Which consisted of a seven mile run, 200 pushups, 400 sit-ups, and whatever else they felt like making him do at the time.]  
  
He sat down with that recruit. There had been no appointment. That was just a ploy. But, Gatty could easily get him taken to the infirmary later. That would completely excuse him for missing physical training, allow for Cliet to not find out that there was no appointment, and to possibly get anyone else who didn't like him to give him a break for a bit. Things always seemed to work out okay in the end.   
  
.  
  
"So...what was your name again? Dirandau?"   
  
Dirandau hugged his knees.   
  
"Yes...." he said quietly.  
  
Gatty waited for him to say a little more, but Dirandau had gone back to silence.   
  
"You've got a nice name. Mind if I call you Dilly? Nobody likes to use names over five letters long here."   
  
Dirandau shut his eyes.  
  
"Kay."  
  
All his words were short and quiet. It seemed that he wouldn't say anything unless asked a question, or provoked too much.   
  
"Especially that idiot Cliet. He's the one who started it. His real name's Cliaret, but he hates it, so he's started making everyone else use that rule to. You might find it easier to just let him win in the little things. He'll probably leave you alone if you do."   
  
He didn't like giving anyone the advice of giving up, but in Dirandau's case, he felt it best. Dirandau couldn't fend anyone off at the moment, and Gatty wouldn't always be around to make sure everyone was 'playing nice.'   
  
At the mention of Cliet, Dirandau began crying unstoppably. Gatty blinked.   
  
"Uh....are you okay?"   
  
Dirandau curled up on the floor. He couldn't have looked more hurt if someone came up to him and chopped him to pieces.  
  
Gatty couldn't understand this behavior. Sure, Cliet was a jerk, and it's never nice to to be hurt...but...well, this is overreacting.   
  
.  
  
Gatty looked at the door, nervously.   
  
"C'mon...you've got to stop that. If a DC catches you crying like that...you're going to get yourself the beating of a lifetime. You do realize that, don't you? Don't do it to yourself..."  
  
But, Dirandau didn't seem either able or willing to stop.   
  
"Come with me. We'll go wash those tears off. It's really not worth it to stay down there like that."  
  
And still he didn't listen. Gatty became frustrated. How is it someone could be so weak, and yet so stubborn? He gave up for the time being. He picked Dirandau up, who didn't give much of a fight, and took him over to a rack.  
  
"I'll just get him an SIQ slip," thought Gatty. "Then they can't rightly do anything to him."   
  
.  
  
SIQ stood for 'Sick In Quarters.' Temporary bedrest. Gatty was allowed to give them to other people, if they were unable to get to the infirmary at the moment. It wasn't a good thing to lie about, especially since the doctors would find out that the person hadn't really been sick. But, no one could honestly think that this recruit wasn't ill. Not with the way he was acting and how he looked. Gatty put up the slip on the bunk. He left to retrieve everyone's temporary records, and to take care of some other divisional necessities.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
By the time he finished, everyone else had come back from their PT session. Cliet was staring at Dirandau nervously. Gatty couldn't resist a chance to make Cliet feel bad.   
  
"That's your fault, you know. He might not make it. The doctors don't quite know. It's...sad, really."  
  
Cliet turned pale. It took him a moment to regain his composure.  
  
"Yeah...but...I....well, how was I to know? And, it's not like Zaibach really needs to take care of their weaker soldiers." He turned to face Gatty. "I'll bet he's an A. M., too. That's probably why you like him so much, isn't it?" {{And what an A. M. is will be explained later.}}   
  
Gatty's face turned red with anger. He was sick of those types of insults, but in Zaibach culture, Cliet had every right to make them.   
  
Having shot his favourite arrow, Cliet left for the showers, feeling much better and more assured. Gatty crouched down next to Dirandau's rack. Dirandau's eyes had dried, and he had fallen asleep. Well, that was a good sign. At least he hadn't been lying there contemplating whatever it was that hurt him so badly.   
  
Gatty tapped him on the forehead. Dirandau sat up, ready to bolt up and out of there. He looked terrified, and didn't realize where he was for a full minute. He hyperventilated for a moment, then seemed to calm and return to present reality.  
  
"I hope you're feeling better. I got you a lunch, just in case you were hungry."  
  
.  
  
He was famished. It was several hours into the day, and he hadn't had anything since the morning before. He looked through the bag. The most appetizing thing in there was a 'brick-sandwich.' [Thus named because the damned thing was so stale.]  
  
"Eh...it's not very good, but trust me; it is lots better than the food at the mess hall. And if you eat it with lots of water, it's not too bad. Don't worry. The stuff they give out at night is better. And you'll be able to get wine then, too."  
  
"Uh-huh."   
  
Dirandau wasn't as displeased as Gatty was. In fact, he seemed somewhat happy to have it. He bit into the brick sandwich as if it were the best thing in the world. He smiled at Gatty. "Thanks a lot."  
  
He said more than two words. That was good. And he seemed to be relaxing, as if whatever had happened to him before couldn't touch him anymore. He also seemed to appreciate how nice Gatty had been to him. It seemed he'd be fine after a little more time of this.   
  
.  
  
Gatty was intrigued that anyone could actually stand those sandwiches. It made sense that they gave them to sick people - those recruits would end up throwing it all back up anyway.   
  
"You must have had some really bad food before this, if you actually like that stuff."   
  
Dirandau froze, nearly choking on the sandwich. His eyes became wide, fixed upon an imaginary point, as if he were in another world. Those words had recalled some part of the past to his memory. Gatty blinked. It was far too easy to set this guy off.   
  
"Come on...don't do that again. I'm sorry, for whatever I said. I didn't mean it." He took Dirandau's hand and began to rub it gently. He remembered that his mother used to do that for him when he was nervous or scared. It always helped.   
  
Dirandau wrenched his hand away, and scooted as far away as he could.   
  
"Please, let me help you. Just tell me what's wrong."   
  
He tried to come closer, but Dirandau was determined. Having no other weapon, he threw the rest of the sandwich at Gatty. It gave him a deep scrape on the side of his face.   
  
"Stay away from me!!"   
  
Because of how quiet Dirandau had been all this time, it was shocking to hear him suddenly screaming like that, with nothing unusual going on. Dirandau had backed up so much that he fell off the bed. He took off running for the door. Cliet took off running after him, and, of course, beat him to it. Cliet put him in a headlock, and started dragging him back.   
  
"You damned psycho! You can't go out there. And, shut-" Dirandau began screaming as loudly as he could. Cliet clapped a hand over his mouth, and was presently bitten. Gatty came over, and began yelling at Cliet to just leave Dirandau to him to take care of.  
  
.  
  
And, meanwhile, the DC [Division Commander] lounge was being disturbed. It was a central location where they could make up their division's plan of the Day, and make sure that none of them conflicted with the other divisions. [For example, it would prevent two divisions from trying to use a training hall at the same time.] But they couldn't do it without quiet. They were certainly angry that their work, which was done only to help those idiot boys in their training, was being disturbed by their recruits. Three of them went to investigate.   
  
.  
  
.  
  
"So, you felt you just HAD to join in, recruit?"  
  
Cliet was on his 100th push-up. He could hardly breathe, let alone talk.  
  
"I'm waiting, recruit!!"   
  
"Y.es....sir..." he said in a raspy voice.  
  
"Hmmm...you seem to feel obligated to do a lot of irrational things. So, I take it that you'll be just fine with the fact that you have to do two hundred more push-ups."  
  
.  
  
Cliet hit the ground. 200! After he was so tired already! GAaah!   
  
.  
  
"Okay, I see...displaying more of your 'specialness.' We'll make that three hundred more, and I want you to say, 'I'm special, I need attention' after each one. Got that?"   
  
"Yeah...." Cliet managed to say.   
  
"How about a yes sir?!!"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
"Fine. Begin."  
  
Cliet was left to finish, and in a moment it would be Gatty's turn.   
  
.  
  
Gatty's gaze drifted from Cliet, whom he really didn't mind seeing suffer, to Dirandau, who was now gagged and being restrained by one of the DC's.  
  
"Poor kid, " he thought. There was no telling what the DCs would do to him. Disruptive activity of that magnitude would be dealt with in a harsh manner, even by Zaibach standards.  
  
.  
  
"You're supposed to be the leader of this division, are you not?"   
  
.  
  
Emphasis was placed on 'supposed to,' to remind him that his position was not set in stone.   
  
Gatty immediately snapped out of his thoughts, and came to attention. "Yes, sir!" he said, loudly and clearly as possible. Working with the DCs to one's own interests was often a job of acting. If he pretended to be motivated, and acted as if he were assured and in the right, they would gloss over and miss his mistakes. They would leave him alone.   
  
.  
  
"Very well, then. If you truly think you are a leader, then I will treat you like one. No questions. I want you to assess the situation."  
  
.  
  
"Damnit," he thought. "A speech? I didn't prepare one...fuck..." He cleared his throat, trying to think of anything to say.   
  
"Well...It began with an incident, a discrepancy on Recruit Cliaret's part. He is unable to...uh..handle the other recruits, or to work with anyone else. Recruit Dirandau is suffering from unknown problems which were going to be rec..uh..recto...rectified."   
  
He was a little nervous, and big words like that weren't altogether familiar to him. [He was young, after all.] He was simply trying to impress, and feeling as if he were failing at that. He prayed that he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.   
  
The DC stared, relentless, at Gatty. No, no...that answer wasn't correct.   
  
"Is that...all?"   
  
Gatty bit his lip. What more was there to say? "Yes, sir."  
  
.   
  
The DC shook his head. "Pathetic. I could have read that much in the compartment log book."   
  
.  
  
Gatty's heart sunk down to his feet. There wasn't anymore to say...what was the DC asking him for??  
  
.  
  
"I can see that you're trying, therefore, I'll give you another chance. I want you to assess the situation...meaning, what YOU did wrong."   
  
Gatty was slightly dumbfounded.   
  
"I did everything I possibly could...it's not my fault that this ended up like it did," he thought. "Those two were fighting. I tried to stop them...I tried..."   
  
His mind rambled on for a moment. Whatever the DC was expecting him to say was inconceivable to Gatty.   
  
"Well, recruit? I'm waiting." Gatty made several attempts to start again, but he couldn't find a starting point. Thankfully, a break came for him. Cliet's throat was so dry that he couldn't manage to talk anymore. As soon as the noise had ceased, the DC turned his attention to screaming at Cliet. This gave Gatty five whole minutes to collect his thoughts.   
  
"Gatty, after this is over, you will write up an EMI slip for Cliet. Understand?"  
  
.  
  
Those who were watching shuddered. EMI - Extra Military Instruction. That was the worst a recruit could get. Normally, they just had recruits 'beat' themselves by doing exercise. But, if one refused [and being unable to continue was counted as a refusal], then he would get a real beating. For however long the DC felt necessary.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Very well, then. And, now...let's hear your excuse."   
  
.  
  
Gatty's voice took on a very self-depricating tone.   
  
"I have no excuse, sir. As a leader, anything that goes wrong in the group I have taken charge of, no matter what the cause, is counted as my fault. I should have been able to control the two, even if they didn't want to cooperate. A leader has to be able to control his men, even if they absolutely refuse to. A failure to do so is unacceptable. A failure of any kind is still a failure. No matter what."   
  
He shut his eyes and bowed his head. He sounded about ready to kill himself over this, and that was exactly what the DC wanted to hear. Soldiers had to desire perfection over anything else.   
  
"Then you have learned a valuable lesson today."  
  
Gatty sighed with relief. He would escape from this unscathed! Hoorah!   
  
"However, you still made a mistake, and will have to pay for it. I'll see that you do. Later. This session is over."   
  
Gatty tensed up again. Of course. Never a reprieve. Never an escape.  
  
He wondered just what they were going to do to him. They might be a little lenient...but there was no way to be even close to being sure. He hurried to the office, and filled out the EMI slip. He had been practicing those forms in his spare time, just for something to do. He did this one in ten seconds. That beat his last record. He handed it to the DC, who then told him to fill another one out for Dirandau. But, this one was to be an AEMI - Advanced Extra Military Instruction. Being literally beaten within an inch of your life. People were known to die from it.   
  
.  
  
"Sir...he's supposed to go to medical in a few minutes...you can't-"  
  
Oy. He made the terrible mistake of telling someone higher than him that they couldn't do something. That'd cost him later. "....I mean....he can't go to AEMI."   
  
"Medical?" The DC repeated.   
  
Gatty nodded. "Yes, sir. That's what started the problem. Recruit Cliaret was messing with him after I had made him SIQ, and Recruit Dirandau wasn't quite right in the head at the moment. Sir."   
  
The DC narrowed his eyes. He despised it when a recruit got out of punishment. He called it "Vitamin P." They should all have it as often as possible, because it helps them grow into better soldiers. Plus, it simply entertained him.   
  
"Very well," He said, slowly. "But, I still want an AEMI slip written up. I already had my heart set on it. And...hmm...." He pointed to some random recruit in the background. "I want it made out for him. Got that?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Good. When you're finished with recruit Dirandau, that other one needs to be brought to AEMI. Make it happen."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
They gave Dirandau back to Gatty, and left with Cliet, who had decided to let himself be dragged. He refused to move anymore than he had to. There was no reason for him to try to be strong now, because it wouldn't save him from the punishment. As soon as the DCs were out of earshot, the recruits began talking.   
  
"That's unbelievable! It was such a stupid incident...they can't be making this big a deal out of it!"   
  
"Gaaah...we're all gonna die....we're all gonna screw up and die...They're gonna put this whole division inta one big box together, and just label it 'Jacked-up"  
  
"Do you think we'll get out of PT if we have to go to Cliet's funeral?"  
  
One of them sneered in Gatty's general direction.  
  
"Gee...I wish I could be in charge. Then I could get out of any kind of trouble."  
  
Some snickered at that.   
  
Because Gatty never seemed to suffer any of their punishments, and because he wasn't there for many of the group's activities, they assumed that he had it easy.  
  
They didn't have any idea what sort of troubles Gatty had to deal with as leader. They didn't realize how much worse he had it much of the time. But, their feelings didn't have to be addressed at the moment. They were only joking at the apparent irony of this.  
  
.  
  
Gatty didn't say anything. The recruit who was to go to AEMI was the only one he was concentrating on.  
  
"It...it won't be so bad. I've been there before. It's not that bad. I swear. And...you'll probably become unconscious half-way through…you won't even remember most of it once it's over."  
  
The recruit nodded halfheartedly. That most certainly did not help.   
  
Gatty bit his lip. He couldn't do much. If he helped one person, another got shot. It was a lose-lose situation. And everyone held him responsible.  
  
"I'll get you out of this," he whispered. "I promise."   
  
.  
  
He told the recruit to go sit down and try to relax, and to not worry. He then turned his attention to the next person in need of his help. Dirandau had sat down behind a bunk, and was struggling [ineffectively] to get that gag off. It was tied in a horribly complicated knot, the type of which they hadn't begun learning how to tie yet. Gatty got a pair of scissors from the division's first aid kit, and used it to cut the cloth. Dirandau said, 'thank you,' in a quite dismayed tone, and walked away.   
  
"Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed Gatty as he walked after Dirandau.   
  
"Are you okay? I was worried..."  
  
Dirandau stopped and sighed.  
  
"That was my fault...wasn't it..."  
  
He looked at the depressed AEMI candidate. "I was supposed to get that...and you had someone else take it for me...and they didn't want to..."  
  
He was genuinely sorry. It was unusual for someone to feel that bad about getting out of something at someone else's expense. Out of everyone who had to suffer through that ordeal, Dirandau seemed to suffer worse. It had nothing to do with punishments received, or what had happened to whom. It was all dependent on the mind.   
  
"You should try not to think about it. We've got to get going. And...please cooperate this time. I don't want to have to beat you up again."  
  
He nodded. After how much he had caused, he didn't mind doing as requested...even though he was deadly fearful about going to a doctor.   
  
.  
  
.  
  
The line at the infirmary was...long, to say the least. The rooms were fully packed with recruits. They had every kind of ailment imaginable. At least, they said they did. It was well-known that most everyone there was only going to get out of PT or out of a beating. Thankfully, Recruit Training's medical advisors had decided that infirmary visits were to be allowed to anyone who asked for one, no matter how unlikely it was they the needed it. [Although, if a recruit were to request a trip to the infirmary too much, then their DCs would make their lives a living nightmare.] Gatty went directly to the front of the line with Dirandau. They didn't have to wait, thankfully. Those that had been given SIQ slips were given head-of-the-line priveliges. He filled out an appointment slip, and was directed to go wait on the third floor.  
  
.  
  
The waiting room was dimly lit, and the walls were painted in calm colours. This was perhaps the most peaceful place they could hope to spend time in as recruits. Thanks to some random official, it was decided that the ill needed to get away from the tense atmosphere of training, and for some reason the colour scheme of rooms like these was chosen to help that along.   
  
Personally, Gatty thought that if they would get some nicer medical personnel, that would help put the patients more at ease than changing the paint colours. [But, then, his opinion didn't exactly matter at the moment.]   
  
.  
  
"You don't have to say anything. Just..uh...just pretend that you lost your voice. I can get them to give you what you need."  
  
"Uh-huh..." Dirandau was very distant. Gatty was nice, but nobody had control over doctors. Doctors were the evil of the world, who lived behind dark walls, and never let anyone be free from them.   
  
"Listen...I can take care of this. I know how the system works, I know how to do things here. You don't have to worry. And he is not going to AEMI. I wouldn't let anyone go there...well, maybe Cliet..." Gatty snickered. "It's all under control, okay?"  
  
Dirandau nodded.  
  
.  
  
They waited for forty minutes or so, thus demonstrating one of the army sayings of "Hurry up and wait. Early is on time, and on time is late." Everyone had to be at least a half-hour early to anything scheduled, and then about an hour of that was spent waiting for the instructor or inspector or whoever it happened to be. Some suspected it was meant to teach them patience. Others suspected that it was just another army mistake.   
  
"The doctor will see you now..." called a voice over a comm link.  
  
"C'mon," Gatty whispered. "And, relax..."   
  
.  
  
He was true to his word. His suitable, though entirely fabricated, explanation as to what was going on was sufficient enough to get Dirandau two weeks of LLD {{Light Limited Duty: Gets you out of PT, beatings, and allows you to walk without being in your division. (Something the author received many, many times.)}}, and no new prescriptions. The infirmary doctors had a habit of over-medicating anyone who came for help. There solution to everything was to prescribe a substance...and there were plenty of drugs in the closet. They did, however, give him some tranqulizer, for emergencies. They said that it had been on Dirandau's previous prescription list.   
  
He had also kept his word about the AEMI. Everyone thought it was noble that he had taken that session himself. Especially since he still had to do his own special PT session, and to take on the separate punishment that he had specifically earned.   
  
Dirandau grew to trust Gatty after that. Well, actually, it was more like hero-worship than trust. Someone that could will one of those vile, conniving medical personnel to do anything of one's own bidding...it seemed like an impossibility. And manipulating those DCs like that...getting exactly the outcome that he wanted, even if it was at a steep price... All of it was so easy for Gatty. Gatty knew how to do everything here. He vowed he'd do anything Gatty asked.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
{{Author's notes: Eh....my, my, my...how...AU this must seem. Dirandau, acting as one of his DSlayers might, feeling sorry for his actions, and not particularly interested in gaining any semblance of power except the ability to get the higher ups to leave him alone. Not quite like Dirandau...[And I'll bet that those of you who are not fans of his think I'm molly-coddling, and trying to show that he has a nice side, right?] But, fear not! If I do my job correctly [Which I intend to] this will all make sense, and will be yet another fun angsty fic. And, Dirandau will eventually because his usual unhappy screaming pyromaniac self with a ready hand for slapping anyone who gets in his way. I'm trying to mix and match my bootcamp experience with what I think Zaibach might have had. Just so that no one worries too much, that beating session is a very VERY extreme representation. While they weren't enjoyable, they weren't as bad. I think it was illegal to make people do more than 80 pushups at a time.   
  
.  
  
.  
  
I'm not sure how many more Dilandau or Esca fics I plan to write.  
  
Anything I do try seems to end up a mix of drinking sessions, painful defeats and broken dreams. While I don't mind that, I can't help but think that it all seems to end up the same.  
  
[Plus at the moment, I'm tired, and am once again trying to evaluate how weird all this looks, or if it actually does look like what I intend it to…..]  
  
.  
  
And then there is the fact that I really ought to start pursuing my other fiction. It suffers from neglect.  
  
.  
  
So, right now, I don't know what I'm doing, and probably shouldn't be rambling about it….but……..oh well…  
  
.  
  
Happy Trails for now.}} 


	3. Chapter 3

{{Back with more writing, that I am.  
  
I should have another chapter of Weapon of War done soon as well, and updated quickly after this.  
  
I've got lots of time, so I may update more often. But, don't count on it.  
  
I'm erratic.}}  
  
Dirandau sat on the floor, shining his boots.  
  
Little circles...little circles...  
  
Aya, but his arm was tired! But, this was the only way. At least, that's what everyone else said. It didn't seem to work for him. He could never get them to shine well enough.  
  
.  
  
He dipped the cloth in water, and started on his task again. He wouldn't stop until they were perfect.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Today was a lucky day. They had all received a bit of free time, thanks to their accolades in a recent test. Their DC was pleased by the fact that they had defeated another unit.  
  
Some fooled around, fighting eachother. Others talked. And then there were the practical jokers.  
  
The place was filled with a generally jovial attitude. But Dirandau took no notice. He just kept working.  
  
.  
  
Cliet, who was still quite miffed about his EMI session, approached him.  
  
"What do you think you're doing?"  
  
Dirandau looks up, blinking.  
  
".....shining my boots."  
  
"No, I don't mean that! Aya, you're so thickheaded."  
  
Dirandau looked down at the floor, knowing it was true. Everyone had spent the last week convincing him of that  
  
.  
  
Cliet rolled his eyes, and decides to grace the poor dumb recruit with enlightenment.  
  
"I meant what are you doing there? You're in front of my locker. I need to get something."  
  
"Oh!" Dirandau exclaimed as he scooted over. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be in the way."  
  
He smiled amiably, reminiscent of a customer sales representative. He was always trying to get along with everyone. He owed it to them to be nice, since they were at least tolerating him.  
  
.  
  
Cliet grabbed a pair of skivvies.  
  
"Doesn't matter if you mean to be or not. The truth is, you're always in everybody's way."  
  
Dirandau lowered his head.  
  
"I..I'm sorry...."  
  
Cliet leaned close to him. Uncomfortably close.  
  
"Yes, you are."  
  
.  
  
Dilandau's hair was ever-so-gently hanging down in front of his face. He was thankful that at the moment it was longer than regulations allowed, because it hid his eyes.  
  
"I don't mean to be," he whispered, almost inaudibly.  
  
.  
  
"Aya, you're so hopeless! Really."  
  
Cliet continued on in that vein, rambling about Dirandau's ineptness. Dirandau kept sinking closer and closer to the floor, as if he had hope that he could sink down into it. Every word was striking close to home, to his heart.  
  
"And I hope they start kicking out those that don't belong soon. You're the first to go, I'd wager."  
  
.  
  
That sentence just about killed Dirandau. They had been warned that it was nearing the time when the DCs would begin slimming down the roster. Anyone chosen who would not be staying was to be sent back in training. And, they would lose their prospective rating. They wouldn't be a soldier when they got out. They would be stuck working as a serviceman. And that was practically slavery, and a great dishonor.  
  
Servicemen were those that did everything from taking out the trash to working in the kitchens. The better off in their group worked on guymelefs and other such machinery, but it took years to be able to get that high. It was a depressing life, one that destroyed the heart of anyone forced to live it.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau had been working extra hard, to ensure that he'd have a chance of staying in....but, no. He was just as bad as before. And it seemed that the more he tried, the worse he was.  
  
.  
  
"Why don't you just kill yourself and get it over with?"  
  
.  
  
"That's more than enough, Cliet!" Gatty broke in. "How dare you say something like that? How dare you?"  
  
Gatty was absolutely furious. It was such hard work trying to make sure everyone was surviving. And Cliet seemed dead-set on making life difficult for everyone.  
  
.  
  
"I dare because it ought to be said."  
  
Gatty knifehanded Cliet in the throat, which sent the boy back. He clutched his neck, unable to breathe properly for the moment.  
  
"And it ought to be said that if I hear anything else like that from you, I'm going to pound the living daylights out of you. And then I'll turn you in, and let them take care of you. Understand?"  
  
Cliet managed to cough out a yes, and walked away. One thing he had learned was that when Gatty was defending someone else, he would become very insistent. And Gatty was oh-so-much stronger than everyone else. It was better to wait until Gatty's mindset had changed, and he was easier to deal with.  
  
.  
  
Gatty turned his attention away from Cliet, and didn't give him another thought. He had mastered the technique of switching gears, thus enabling him to act without being plagued by a thousand other problems all at once. It allowed him to survive without losing his sanity.  
  
.  
  
"Hey Dilly, I got some extra time now. Want to do some training?"  
  
Gatty was determined to help Dirandau improve. It was such a sad thing. Dirandau had a great amount of potential, moreso than anyone could tell from the surface. And he would be doing well, but there always seemed to be something stopping him. It was as if he couldn't let himself succeed, like it was a sin or physically impossible.  
  
.  
  
"It's pointless," Dirandau said. "This stuff...I can't do it...I can't. It never changes."  
  
"You can. Just keep at it. If you can't do it, try harder."  
  
"I do. I work as hard as I can. It's not enough. It's...it's just me, though. I don't know what it is, but there's something wrong with me..."  
  
Gatty rubbed his forehead. He liked Dirandau, he really did. But dealing with his self-deprication and paranoia was emotionally draining.  
  
"You...are...not...so...damned...hopeless."  
  
.  
  
Dirandau blinked, and stared at Gatty. Gatty was beginning to sound angry at him. Gatty saw that look, and forced himself to calm down.  
  
"Let's just work on something, okay? You didn't do too well on that last bunk drill. Let's work on it together, okay?"  
  
Dirandau nodded. He dared not disagree with Gatty at the moment, the only person who didn't completely dissapprove of him.  
  
.  
  
That last drill was murder. The DC had come in the middle of the night, because he couldn't sleep and wanted something to do.  
  
There were several failures, due to the tired state of the young recruits.  
  
.  
  
When he got to Dirandau's rack, he took one look, then started in on his bunkmate.  
  
"WHy didn't you help him?"  
  
"It's against the rules to do so, sir."  
  
"So? That doesn't explain why you neglected your teammate."  
  
"....It's illegal to help a teammate out in a drill, sir."  
  
"You should have done it anyway!! You are my Ricky Desperados! If I tell you to do something, you will find a way. Now, why didn't you help him?"  
  
"He didn't ask me to, sir."  
  
"So if he's lying on a battlefield, dying, you're not going to wrap his wounds unless he asks you to?"  
  
The recruit stammered out something that sounded like an attempt to answer. But he couldn't think of a good reply. The DC decided to go easy on him by not forcing him to continue making up answers.  
  
He walked up to the bunk, and ripped everything off of the other recruit's bunk. Which was a shame, because his was perfect.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau was mortified. Yet another person was taking the brunt of his punishment. Being responsible for so much pain given to his teammates...it was destroying him mentally.  
  
"You..you're my little wounded incapable, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes, sir," he said, his voice quavering.  
  
"Oh, great. You going to cry? I hear you do that a lot. You'd better not let me catch you crying. Ever. Understood."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"I'd sleep lightly if I were you. Because I doubt your teammates are going to take this much longer. And I doubt your friend here is going to appreciate what he's receiving..."  
  
.  
  
After that, he'd ordered Gatty to drop, and forced him to do push-ups for two hours. To add to that, every time the DC came into a space in which Gatty was working for the next week, Gatty was to give him 200 push-ups then as well. And if he failed to notice the DC's presence, that was an extra 100.  
  
"You're going to help push him to succeed, or else you will push yourself up until you die."  
  
Gatty took all this with a thousand yard stare, a blank look on his face. He'd deal with it...he wasn't drained yet. He still had more.  
  
"You can't hurt me..." ran over and over in his head.  
  
.  
  
When the DC had walked away, Dirandau stole a glance at his bunkmate, who was now seething with anger.   
  
"Not again! This is just flipping fantastic."  
  
It made Dirandau's heart sink. And people wondered why he was so quick to apologize profusely about anything, no matter how menial. And why he was always mired down in details and work. He had racked up a debt to everyone else. He refused to let it go unpaid. He refused to have his name steeped in negativity. But it seemed so impossible to dig himself out of that.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau walked to the front of his bunk, and stood at attention. Gatty watched the clock.  
  
"You have twenty seconds to strip your rack. Ready...begin."  
  
Stripping was the easy part. All you had to do was rip off your sheets and pillow case, and throw them in the center of the mattress. Fairly well impossible to screw up.  
  
Gatty looked it over.  
  
"Well...you...uh....almost got it. Just remember that your matress has to be pushed all the way to the front. Like this."  
  
And he fixes the problem.  
  
"Not too bad, though. It'll pass."  
  
.  
  
He looked at the clock again.  
  
"You have ten minutes to remake your rack. Begin."  
  
.  
  
Dirandau worked as quickly as he possibly could, but that did no good. He became mired down in the intricate little details, the ones that would stay imperfect no matter how long you worked on them.  
  
On each corner of a rack, the corners of the sheets are to be tucked into 'Forty-Fives." A straight diagonal line, which was supposed to be at an exact 45 degree angle. It wasn't impossible, but it was difficult to master.  
  
Dirandau couldn't get them right. He did t hem, undid them, re-did them, and undid them again. All about twenty times each. It was a bit painful for Gatty to watch him struggling so, needlessly. The poor kid...he wanted so badly to be perfect. Why didn't he realize that no one ever could be?  
  
.  
  
"Time!"  
  
Dirandau dashed back in front of his rack, at attention again. According to the rules, he should have been there before the time ended. But, Gatty decided to let it slide this time.  
  
He rubbed his forehead.  
  
"Do you want me to bother looking it over for points, or shall we just skip ahead to fixing what's wrong?"  
  
Dirandau had a glare on his face, angry at his own faults.  
  
"Let's just get it over with."  
  
.  
  
"Your forty-fives...aya, Dilly....! You ought to know how to make these by now. We've done them about thirty times."  
  
Dirandau cringed.  
  
"I haven't. I've only done them about five."  
  
"Oh....that's right....you're always at medical when we do training. I...I'm sorry. I'll show you how, okay? And next time you don't understand how to do something, just come and tell me."  
  
The DC was still annoyed about the LLD status Dirandau had received. He'd make Dirandau pay, one way or another. And, if that way could only be acheived by skimping on his training, then so be it. Nearly every time training came up, he sent Dirandau to medical, and told him he'd just have to make it up later.  
  
.  
  
"Have you even been instructed on how to fold your clothes yet?"  
  
"A few times..."  
  
"Do you remember any of it?"  
  
Dirandau sighed.  
  
"I remember that the DC got mad as hell because I didn't follow instructions correctly."  
  
"What instructions?"  
  
"Fold right over left; fold to your left, fold to your right...."  
  
"....what don't you understand about it?"  
  
Gatty couldn't help looking at him incredulously. He was hoping, absolutely hoping that it wasn't what he thought it was.  
  
"Uh...Dilly....hold up your left hand for me."  
  
And Dirandau refused to do so.  
  
.  
  
Gatty gripped his forehead tightly, his face scrunched up.  
  
"How can he not know this?" he pondered.  
  
"Okay, on that subject, I have to ask...you still have trouble telling time?"  
  
"....No...."  
  
"You're lying. Come on, I'm only trying to help. If you don't tell me what you're having trouble with, how can I do that?"  
  
"It's only when I have to keep converting from civilian to military, and back again...I swear that's the only problem."  
  
"Alright then, what's the clock say now?"  
  
Dirandau's line of vision didn't waiver. He made no attempt to look at the nearby clock.  
  
"I can't see it. There's a glare on the clock."  
  
"Uh-huh...sure. Then if I draw a clock on paper, you'll be able to tell me, right?"  
  
"Yes. But you don't have any paper."  
  
"I can get some."  
  
"No you can't!"  
  
.  
  
"Do you remember how to tie your boots at least?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Are you certain?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"....yes....."  
  
This was taxing on his good manners.  
  
"Want to show me?"  
  
"No."  
  
Truthfully, he did know. He just didn't want to be embarrassed. He was perfectly fine when doing things alone, on his own. If he knew how to do something, then he could do it. But only when he wasn't watched. Being watched destroyed all his finesse and ability.   
  
Watching eyes...why did they plague him so? As if his ability to be what they wanted to see was the key to surviving.   
  
.  
  
Nowadays, in doing anything while being watched, he appeared so shaken and nervous. He was so used to being expected to screw up.   
  
And he was never one to fail in rising to his reputation....  
  
.  
  
"Dilly, you worry me."  
  
"Gatty-"  
  
"No, no. I know you're sorry about it and everything, and I know it's normal to you. But, it really worries me when you inform me that you can't even read a clock. I...well, I honestly don't know how you're going to make it."  
  
Gatty was loathe to admit this, but he doesn't know what else to do. This...all this...what was there to describe how awkward this whole mess was?  
  
"This is common sense stuff. Things you've been using your whole life. How do you not know your right from your left, anyway?"  
  
.  
  
Dirandau stared at Gatty. He felt hurt, an often experienced emotion. He adored Gatty for helping him...and now his protector was on the verge of abandoning him. Truth be told, Gatty would never have abandoned anyone he felt needed his help, but Dirandau didn't understand such a thing. Anyone will abandon anybody. They just need the right reason. And constant fucking up in basic training...that was reason enough for anyone to abandone even their best friend. Right about then, Cliet's advice was not sounding all that bad....  
  
.  
  
Gatty took a deep breath, to calm himself, and began his usual thought process when it came to a problem. There just had to be a way to fix this. No problem was insurmountably difficult.  
  
For now, he decided, he might as well try to soothe Dirandau with a few words. Even if he couldn't fix things, he could help his little protege feel better.  
  
"Dilly...I think it-"  
  
.  
  
But Dirandau was not listening anymore. His mind was dwelling on how Gatty now thought of him. There was no defense..no defense whatsoever...not from a well-earned bad reputation. Desparation was welling up inside of him. Desparation to prove that he....well, that he was...something. Anything. Something else than what they called him.  
  
These abstract feelings of bitterness, confusion, anger, and fear condensed themselves, and was conducted to the outside world via his voice.  
  
.  
  
"I don't know because they never told me!!!"  
  
.  
  
With that, Dirandau ran off to the only place a person could run off to in the barracks - the head {{Bathroom}}.  
  
.  
  
Gatty was slightly shocked. It was the first time he'd heard Dirandau speak so angrily. Normally, it was anguish or pain that came acrost in his voice.  
  
But this was unmistakably anger.  
  
.  
  
He was about to go in there to follow when he was called by the comm link system to the division office. The newer recruits were receiving their prospective ratings that day. He picked up the records, and ordered everyone to stand at attention in front of their racks.  
  
Cliet, still in a miffed mood, refused.  
  
.  
  
"I already know what I'm going to be. I don't have to participate in this crap."  
  
"I know you already know, but you still have to follow my order."  
  
His voice became more officious sounding, as it often did when he tried to be motivational.  
  
"We have to stand together. We have to be unified."  
  
"So then why don't you call your little project out here from the head?" he asked, now unable to be touched by Gatty's hopeful 'glory-speak.'  
  
"Just never mind about him. He's got other problems than you know to deal with."  
  
"Oh, shut up about that! We all know by now there's nothing much wrong with him...at least, nothing that you knew about when you took him to medical. He's fine. He's just pathetic, and needs to go home to his 'momma'. And-"  
  
"Either be quiet or prepare to eat rack," Gatty said, his voice cold and unfeeling. He reserved that tone of voice only for when he was deadly serious.  
  
Gatty had grown fond of slamming the bunks into Cliet. He did it on average once every day.  
  
Cliet complied. He had not grown the least bit fond of Gatty's habit. His ribs were probably never going to quite meld together properly again.  
  
.  
  
He began in a loud officious voice.  
  
"Once you receive your record, you are to read what is written on your page four, and nothing else. You will not speak of this information to any of your teammates at this or any other time. Understood?"  
  
All replied, "Yes, sir!" in unison. When no DCs were around, they were expected to call Gatty sir. [Not that they ever followed that rule during normal times...]  
  
.  
  
He glanced around, checking for DCs. None about. Great!  
  
He quieted his voice.  
  
"Alright, I know you guys are excited to find this out. So, if you're going to tell eachother, just keep it quiet, and don't go talking about it when the DCs are here."  
  
.  
  
He passed the records out quickly. He kept Dirandau's to the side, intending to let him have it later, when he'd be in a better state of mind for it.  
  
He gave the order to open them, and then allowed them to fall out of attention status.  
  
Half the division had received the rating of General Soldier. Basically, a footsoldier, someone who isn't all that important, and no one cares about much. The bottom of the barrel. But, it was better than Serviceman, that's for damned sure. They felt lucky at worst.  
  
.  
  
Three received billets as doctors. One of them was terrified. How was he going to be able to do this? He hated seeing the wounded. He didn't know if he could handle the pain of it, of seeing people die in front of him every day. And if he were no good at it, he'd risk being executed. He was on the verge of tears.  
  
This annoyed Cliet very much. He'd give anything to be a doctor, or be in any other position of importance. He, too, was a General Soldier.  
  
"Shut up! It's not that bad, you friggin' idiot. You're lucky. And if you think it's so horrible to see people hurt every day, then talk to Gatty. He's at peace with his fate."  
  
"Cliet, that's enough," Gatty said as his skin tone changed from white to red in a matter of seconds.  
  
.  
  
The others were intrigued. There were many mixed feelings about Gatty, but all wanted to know where he'd end up.  
  
"Why...what's your rating?" inquired the young future doctor.  
  
"Oh, he's-"  
  
Gatty tackled Cliet. But, Cliet was enjoying letting them all know far too much. He was able to let words escape his lips amidst the many hits Gatty gave him.  
  
"Gonna...be..a...sorcerer...."  
  
"Damn you!"  
  
Gatty gave Cliet one good slam to the floor, and then let him go. It did no good to hurt him now. The damage was already done.  
  
The others stared. A sorcerer....? One of those black-cloaked demons?  
  
But he certainly didn't seem the type.  
  
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"But...I thought you were supposed to be that new Undesignated Officer. We all did," said that same doctor-to-be.  
  
It was a brand-new rating, designed with the idea in mind that good potential officers were being killed before they ever got the chance to advance, since nearly all of them started out as Undesignated Soldiers. Undesignated Soldiers were basically cannon-fodder.  
  
So, those that were seen as having high potential in areas of physical training, leadership, endurance, and intelligence were being selected to start their careers directly as officers.  
  
And everyone knew there was one in this division.  
  
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"No," Gatty said. "I didn't get that."  
  
There was a tinge of regret and jealousy in his voice. He had a natural aptitude for leadership, that was obvious.  
  
He quickly put those feelings away. He wasn't one to question the decisions of that most holy of institutions - the army.  
  
"But I don't consider myself ill-fated. Much as they are hated, they really do a lot of good here. And they are undermanned. If needed, I will take it."  
  
He was resigned to this fate. And he had already been talked to about the job. From what he gathered, it would be peaceful; a lifelong endeavor in that which Zaibach stood for. [Though he had no idea about its darker side. They hadn't told him, for fear he'd go talking to others. No one learned that bit of information until they were too far in to return. And once they learned, they could never leave.]  
  
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Cliet smirked.  
  
"They'll probably turn you into a monkey, or something..."  
  
Gatty gave him a good kick in the stomach.  
  
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"So...who is the officer, then?" asked one of the undesignated soldiers. There was now excited babbling, and much switching of records. Everyone wanted to know.  
  
Even Gatty was curious.  
  
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While everyone was busy looking at eachother's folders, Cliet spied the one Gatty had set aside. He swiped it out from under Gatty's arm, and quickly flipped to Dirandau's page four.  
  
"Oh, cripes...they can't be serious...."  
  
"What is it?" one of the others asked.  
  
"The little freak's got the job!"  
  
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There were mixed reviews for this bit of news. The few that actually saw past the shallow forefront of paranoia and his lack of common knowledge thought he'd do decently, even if he didn't do well.  
  
But the others...they were less than accepting.  
  
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"You know, I think they screwed up and switched your folders, Gatty," said Cliet. "Because there's no way in hell that little idiot is going to make it as an officer. His crew will end up having to do everything for him!"  
  
Gatty probably should have defended Dirandau, but he didn't say anything. Truthfully, he couldn't argue. Minus the negative remarks about Dirandau's character, he too could see no conceivable way that Dirandau would ever live up to this.  
  
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Cliet glanced over a few more things. Everything in this folder was puzzling.  
  
"Hah! He's an AM! I knew it..."  
  
Cliet smirked at Gatty.  
  
"So...it's got to be true, then....you like the kid, so that's why you keep protecting him?"  
  
"Absolutely not. I protect everyone who needs it."  
  
"But, he's an AM."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, duh! Look around you. There aren't that many of them. Seems to me a straight kid would jump at the chance to get in good with their...type."  
  
Gatty rolled his eyes.  
  
"Quit talking like that. There's no reason for you to hate me because of this. And, besides, the army is changing. This is allowed now."  
  
"Fah! First we start using Straights, then we take on foreigners. What's next? We start employing our direct enemies?"  
  
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One of the newer, immigrant recruits was confused. He hadn't been in this society very long, so the abbreviation was unknown to him.  
  
"....what's he talking about?"  
  
One of the others began whispering an explanation to him. "AM stands for Alternative Male...you probably called them femmes. They want unity, so anyone fighting here has to dress like one of us. It's so that other countries will still be intimidated, even if they look down on femmes..."  
  
"No, no. I know that. I mean....Gatty...?"  
  
"He likes femmes. Only femmes. That's a terrible thing. People like that....they're freaks....My father always told me so. If he knew one was our recruit commander...aya!"  
  
"But...why? Why's it such a horrible thing?"  
  
The recruit sneered at the immigrant.  
  
"Forget it. If you can't understand why, then you must be one of them."  
  
"One of what? What the-"  
  
The other recruit walked away in disgust before the immigrant could continue questioning.  
  
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Gatty glowered at Cliet. He was so damned tired of this. He had been doing his job, been working his brains out. It was one thing for Cliet to fight with him because Cliet thought he wasn't doing his job right, because he didn't deserve to be there in the first place, or even just because he didn't like Gatty's personality. [There were plenty who couldn't stand the "When I'm not working, I'm sleeping." lifestyle he had.] But...to go after him because of one trait. One stupid little trait that didn't hold any bearing over anything...  
  
"People like you are the reason our relatives are starving, Gatty."  
  
"No, it's people like you. You, who spend all their time trying to get rid of everyone else instead of training to do their job. Mark my words: You're going to make many mistakes in your career, the likes of which will cause devastation to Zaibach. You are an idiot, a jackass, and a screw-up."  
  
Gatty wrenched Dirandau's record away from Cliet. He looked down at the information.  
  
"Hah...and you can't even read! That's not AM. That's..."  
  
His eyes went wide.  
  
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"It's a typo, Gatty. There's no such thing as an AAM."  
  
"....yes there is."  
  
"Okay. So what's the extra A for, oh wise one?"  
  
"Nothing you need to know about."  
  
Paled, Gatty took his and Dirandau's record, and retreated to the office.  
  
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"AAM...no wonder he...."  
  
Gatty shook his head. This explained quite a few things.  
  
The A stood for altered. In some cases, it was necessary that a femme not merely dress like a man. Or, so he had been told in introductory training.  
  
There was only one way to achieve that...And it certainly wasn't a nice one.  
  
A rating which would require one to be in the heat of battle, and risk either being killed in the open or being captured, was one such instance requiring alterations. They had to continue fooling everyone. And even their abandoned soldiers would not be allowed to be a risk to security.  
  
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Though, it was highly unusual for one so young to be put through that. Even if he was supposed to be an officer later on, there was plenty of time. They'd wait for him to get older.  
  
Thus, Gatty concluded that there must be some terrible things still looming in Dirandau's past. He had no idea of what Dirandau had gone through, but any time that records didn't make sense or seemed inordinately strange, it was the mark of cover-ups and hidden secrets. Though none of them knew the darker side of their government and countrymen, Gatty had something akin to a sixth sense about it. He had always known there was something odd about the people and things around him.  
  
And this bit of info struck a chord with him. A loud, echoing chord.  
  
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Five minutes later, he walked out, still carrying Dirandau's record. He had to tell Dirandau about the rating, and sooner is better than later. But...aya, this was going to be awkward.  
  
He shied away from the group and went straight for the head.  
  
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He found Dirandau in a corner, leaned against a wall. He was fighting away the last bit of his tears.  
  
Gatty began plainly. "Hi....."  
  
Dirandau wouldn't look at him. He was still hurting from the realization that even Gatty had no faith in him.  
  
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"We...uh...we got our ratings today. And guess what? Everyone's jealous of you. You've got a good one."  
  
No reply.  
  
"E...even me. I must confess, I'd love to do what you're going to have the chance to do."  
  
He had hoped that statement might have made Dirandau happy, since Dirandau seemed to adore him so much. But it seemed to do just the opposite.  
  
"You want to read it yourself, or want me to read it to you?"  
  
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"Why bother? I'm going to get killed before I even get out to the fleet, right? No reason to have something to look forward to beyond graduation. It just wouldn't make sense."  
  
"Dilly....why are you talking like that..?"  
  
"Because I'm tired."  
  
"You want to get some sleep?"  
  
Dirandau shot him a terrible look, then turned away even more.  
  
Gatty was thoroughly confused. Dirandau had always been happy when Gatty offered small bits of kindness like that.  
  
"Fine. I'll come see you later. When you're Dilly again."  
  
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A strange sort of smile came to Dirandau's face. He laughed lightly.  
  
"Oh...so....this isn't me, is it? Then who am I? Huh? Tell me who I am!"  
  
Gatty raised an eyebrow. This kind of thing was increasing. Dirandau wasn't completely scared or unsure of himself anymore. There were times when he seemed to have the ability to deal with anything.  
  
The only problem was, his way of dealing...the emotions and feelings that showed through his manner...It....well, it was like some kind of insanity. It was appearing more often, and Gatty didn't want to see that anymore.  
  
"Someone I don't enjoy spending time with."  
  
Gatty walked away, repairing to the office again. He'd be back after Dirandau had time to get over whatever the hell it was he was feeling.  
  
.  
  
Dirandau stared at him, his expression changing to one of horror. Now Gatty not only lacks respect for him, but hates him as well. And so, he set about doing the only thing he was considered an undeniable expert at in his division....crying.  
  
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{{Okay, update...yay! ^_^  
  
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These author's notes are long, so I will give you an overview of them.  
  
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These author's notes consist of three sections: Review responces; Preview for next chapter; a little look into what kind of recruit I was.  
  
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Review responses.  
  
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About the brick sandwiches from last chapter: How does one eat them? By reminding yourself that you're still hungry, and stealing everyone elses mustard packets when they aren't looking.  
  
[I actually miss those things...don't ask me why. They were..uh...comforting...and nutricious..^_^]  
  
Galley food is half terrible, and half decent at bootcamp. The nice thing about it was that they were getting a nice array of ice-cream products in all through training.  
  
To any potential recruits: Do not listen eat the Bagel Dogs. Just...don't...  
  
-_-  
  
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Oh, and on the subject of cockroaches and other things again...they are everywhere. I saw one at the galley the other day that was at least an inch long. And, roaches aren't the least of worries. There are brown-recluses everywhere. Honestly, we ought to have insects on the payroll! ::Rolls eyes.::  
  
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And that poor random recruit...yes, the only reason he got the EMI was because he was in the way of the DC's finger. They love stuff like that.  
  
Those were wonderful sessions of torture, if you had a good RDC.  
  
One invented something he called 'the matrix.'  
  
This involved being locked in a room with the windows shut, and being 'beaten' for an hour or two...or more. I didn't have to go through it [or else I wouldn't be here today, because I'd have given up], but what I'm told is that it was nearly impossible to stay up during push-ups, because there was at least a half-inch deep pool of sweat on the ground.  
  
That right there is recruit hell.  
  
And some people loved it.  
  
Insane, aren't they?  
  
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::Chickles::  
  
The one way to make a DC mad as hell was to enjoy being beaten. It was their only way of hurting you, and if you loved it...heheh....  
  
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One_Mean_Rabbit: ::Glomp:: I love ya, man! I wanna make you my new girlfriend, that alright? Because that review has just made you so very dear to my heart.  
  
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Miss Harusame: A bit of advice. Don't give someone a note about mispelling is your post has a typo in it. I knoe you knoe what I mean by this.  
  
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You people leave me alone about this, or I'm changing Dilly's name to Bob.  
  
You've got well over 90% of the fanfiction writing community of Esca fans calling him Dilandau, please leave me to my quirks. If you want to barrage me with this crap, then fine. I have a good deal of endurance.  
  
And I can come up with so many stupid responses.  
  
Just keep it up.  
  
THat's all I have to say. Keep it up.  
  
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Next chapter preview.  
  
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Next time, I'll write in a physical training session or two.  
  
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Dilly becomes much more like the Dilly we know and love from the series. Much to the surprise of everyone else.  
  
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Gatty suffers through many issues, some stemming from what he now knows of Dilly, and what his rating is going to be.   
  
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There will be more fun with galley food.  
  
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And Cliet will suffer like there is no tomorrow! Muahahaah!  
  
::Other recruits cheer in the background.::  
  
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::Sighs::  
  
Let me rant a little about the life of the 'annoying recruit.'  
  
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If you have seen "Full Metal Jacket," and remember that psychotic recruit they called Gomer Pyle, you will get an idea what kind of person I was.  
  
[I wasn't fat, and I didn't do anything so stupid as to steal a donut from the galley, though. Mostly, it was nervousness and perfectionism.]  
  
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In stenciling-training, I spilled my ink everywhere, and put everything upside down, on the wrong spot. I ruined several pairs of shower-shoes and towels, before they made someone else do it while I watched.  
  
I still have no idea how terrible I was doing in comparison, because I was too busy staring ahead, scared stiff and embarassed, to look at anyone else or to ask them their opinion.  
  
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I will never forget the look on my bunkmate's face when the RDC ripped her bunk apart. _  
  
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I wasn't the worst in PT, but I definitely wasn't good at it. [I was defeated in that area by the girl who told a DC to 'fuck-off' when he tried to motivate her in a run. Now that is sheer stupidity...or guts, whichever you want to call it.]  
  
And I was on LLD many a time. I fell often during running, and my right ankle was terrible.  
  
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Nearly cost my whole division any chance of winning competitive flags. Because, during a pre-inspection, I had my LLD paper [which must be kept at hand at all times], and didn't know at the time that it was supposed to be signed.  
  
I don't know how it happened, but I always seemed to be missing at so many training evolutions.  
  
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There was a time when my A-roc, whom I'm basing Gatty off of, did get fed-up with me and my hyper-frustration. She was going over bunk-drills, and I was going nuts with perfectionism. And I quote, "Damn it! What are you going to do, curl up in the head and die because of this? Snap out of it!"  
  
At which point, my eyes glazed over, and I started rambling on about how sorry I was for putting everyone through this, and that I was never going to make it out there.  
  
::Sighs::  
  
So pathetic....  
  
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I was always running to the head during our group EMI sessions.  
  
On the premise that I had to throw up.  
  
I think it was more or less the idea of being punished for something I wasn't solely responsible for...I was mentally incapable of dealing with it.  
  
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And, in case you are wondering, yes I do have a great deal of difficulty remembering left from right, or reading a clock.  
  
It's difficult enough to deal with, without having to deal with everybody else knowing it.  
  
I don't know why they never expected me to learn it...they never seemed to push me at all when I was young.  
  
::Shuts eyes in regret.::  
  
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Anyway....  
  
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EHeh...and our Cliet never out-and-out told me that I should kill myself, but she certainly did imply a few things. She'd gotten a chance to look at my record once, and saw that I had earned the second degree of swimming qualifications [which is better than quite a few recruits get. ^_^]. I wasn't there, but a little spy friend said one of her eyebrows cocked up high, and she basically said, "You mean she actually -passed- something??"  
  
^_^ At which point, the A-roc told her off. I wish I could've seen it...  
  
[She was so delusional. She even took it upon herself to tell a DC off, because the DC had gone out to smoke, and we had to wait for her to get back to get into our barracks. (Which upset several people who needed to use the head.) We were all surprized they didn't kill her on the spot. She did so many things to deserve it...]  
  
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Let's see...what else did I do there?  
  
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I became the 'annoying' recruit, because I grew into the habit of asking anyone who happened to be in my path to tell me information or to show me how to do something.  
  
Nobody understood how the A-roc could stand it. She just told them that I was a friend, and that I may not have been doing well there, but that once I got out into the fleet, I'd shine.  
  
[May the gods bless all 'ricky-spies' who take it upon themselves to report things to everybody else.]  
  
As time progressed, I grew to stop caring what they thought, and made sure to tell everyone to fuck-off. [In nicer words, of course.]  
  
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And, somehow, I gained the reputation of having multiple personalities. I'm still not sure how that happened...had something to do with the way I made conversation...  
  
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Oh, and the ratings...nobody at all was jealous of me. They are all going off to play with bombs and missiles, while I have to sit behind my desk and type, type, type.  
  
^_^ But I am working with the reserves, so that means living on the land. Shore duty is a vacation to sailors, and I get it my whole career.  
  
::Smirks and snickers::  
  
If they knew where I was now, they'd be jealous.  
  
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So...as usual, I'm basically just employing my experiences and incorporating Esca-characters into this.  
  
^_^  
  
As if that's not expected.  
  
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Happy trails till next update. 


End file.
